


inked flowers

by willtoziers (vapoir)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged up characters, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, florist!will, he gets annoyed when a noisy tattoo parlor opens up next door, i just really needed to write ryers okay, just cute fluff and banter, modern day AU, no mind flayer, no pennywise, no upside down, tattoo artist!richie, there's not a lot of backstory to this, will is 19 richie is 20, will moved to derry when he was 16, will works at a cute and quiet flower shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapoir/pseuds/willtoziers
Summary: Will had nothing against tattoos. He had nothing against people with tattoos. In fact, he wouldn't be shocked if he ended up getting one someday.What he did mind, however, was the level of noise and popularity that seemed to come with Derry's newest, shiny toy.or, a new tattoo parlor opens up next door to the flower shop will byers is employed at, and he isn't pleased about it. until he meets one of the tattoo artists.





	inked flowers

**Author's Note:**

> i'm ryers Trash, here you go
> 
> honestly just really felt the need to get my feet in the water for this ship and write something cute for them. keep in mind this is my first time writing will, this is Very AU (meaning all the upside down and mind flayer shit did not happen), and they're also 19/20, so if his characterization isn't exactly on point i apologize!!!!!
> 
> anyway, this is just fluff and banter and yeah. enjoy and let me know what you think, and if you'd like to read more ryers from me in the future!!
> 
> find me on tumblr at willtoziers

Will has gotten to see a number of people and personalities while working in Derry's local flower shop.

From anxious teenagers trying to find the right shade of color to match their date's prom dress, to family members of the ill, to starry-eyed customers trying to find the _best_ looking roses for a first date — Will's pretty sure he's seen it all.

He really does enjoy his job. It was where his mother had worked when they first moved to Derry during his freshman year, and once he turned seventeen, she helped him land his first job there. Though his mother now works a different job and he's now twenty, it's the perfect job to keep him on his feet and pay rent, while he takes online classes to finish up his degree. 

It's easy enough — take care of the flowers, sell the ones that are in season, always greet people with a smile. Since Derry was a smaller town, the place was never super ridiculously busy and the area always gave a quiet, calm atmosphere.

That is, until a tattoo shop opened up next door.

* * *

 

Will had nothing against tattoos. He had nothing against people with tattoos. In fact, he wouldn't be shocked if he ended up getting one someday.

What he did mind, however, was the level of noise and popularity that seemed to come with Derry's newest, shiny toy. 

Business in the flower shop was slower than usual, and Will decided to take a peek out the window at the beginning of his shift. He saw teenagers and adults alike, crowding around the tattoo shop. Some were showing off their latest ink, some showing off piercings, others smoking and talking and laughing. The music coming from inside the shop was so loud it made Will cringe and immediately return into the safety of his store. 

He let his shoulders slump as he went to sit behind the register, preparing himself for a slow business day, accompanied by the muffled noises and hum of a tattoo gun on the other side of the wall. 

Hours later, Will's suspicions had been confirmed. He had only a few customers all day, and most of them didn't even purchase anything. Instead, they looked around for a bit, smelling some of the prettier flowers, before becoming curious at the noise coming from next door and leaving. It was an endless cycle all week, and by the end of Will's shift, he was just ready to go home.

Only a few minutes before closing, Will heard the bell above the door go off, and he didn't even look up from his copy of _The Book Thief_   he was reading again. "Welcome to The Flower Pot, my name's Will, let me know if you need help," he mumbled distractedly, turning a page, not even caring if he sounded uninterested. 

He heard the footsteps pause, and instead of a reply, he heard an soft laugh. 

"That how you greet all your customers, Mr. William? No wonder it's always dead in here."

Will looks up at that, setting his book in his lap. His eyes are immediately taking in the person in front of him, eyes widening a little. 

His hair was tucked up in a maroon beanie, though Will could see dark curls peeking through the ends of it. The band shirt he was wearing was ripped up, as were the black jeans he was wearing, and Will couldn't help but snicker internally. He looked like a walking Zumiez ad. The things that really caught his eye, though, were the thick glasses over his eyes, the silver hoop in his left nostril, and the tattoos. 

Definitely the tattoos.

His right arm was fully covered in a complete sleeve, and his left was looking like it was in the process of becoming the same. He had a few on his neck, from what Will could tell, and he found himself wondering if the man had any more. He flushed a little at the thought. 

Zumiez Ad walked around the room slowly, looking at each flower he passed with an intensity Will wasn't sure he completely understood. 

"What's this one called?" The guy asked, turning to look at Will with raised eyebrows as he ran a finger along one of the pedals of a yellow flower.

Talking about flowers was secondhand to him by now. This was something he could do — even with a ridiculously attractive guy. No big deal at all.

He set his book down after making sure to mark his page, and slowly stood from the register. He crossed his arms over his work polo and walked over to where the guy stood. Will did his best to avoid his gaze, looking at the flower instead.

"That's a Gerbera jamesonii," he said, nodding towards the bouquet. "Though, most people just call them a transvaal daisy. They can last for a pretty long time as long as you keep them some place cool."

The guy laughed then, shaking his head as he moved towards the next set of flowers. "Damn, you really know your stuff." Will flushed in embarrassment, and he seemed to notice, immediately holding his hands up in defense. "Hey, didn't say it was a bad thing! It's cute."

"Cute? It's my job," Will snorted, nervously fiddling with one of the few bracelets on his wrist. 

"Still cute," the guy said again with a wink, and Will was starting to get irritated. Or intrigued. He couldn't tell which. 

He watched as the other explored the shop some more, and before he knew what was happening, he seemed to be picking a single flower from each bouquet. Within a minute he already had a handful of assorted, different flowers. 

Intrigued was definitely what he was feeling. 

"You um — you have a date, or something?" Will asked curiously. Typically, he wasn't one to intrude on a customer unless the customer brought up their situation first. But it wasn't every day a hot, tattooed guy walked in and started grabbing whatever random flower he could.

The guy — he really needed to get a name for him — let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he examined an iris. "Oh yeah. A hot steamy date with my sketchbook, maybe."

"You draw?"

"Tattoo artist," the man replied. _Oh_ , Will thought. Makes sense. 

Will leaned back against the counter, watching him with thoughtful eyes. "So, you like to draw flowers in your spare time?"

The guy grinned, shaking his head. "For practice, William. Lots of people want flowers, you know? Gotta make 'em as realistic as I can. Just my luck we opened the new place beside a flower shop," he said, glancing back over at Will. "My luck for a few different reasons, apparently," he smirked. Will felt his cheeks burning and looked away.

"Well, I wish I could say the same, but you all opening up over there has made business over here decrease tremendously. Don't get me wrong, it's nice not having customers in here sometimes, but I gotta get a paycheck somehow," Will mentioned. There wasn't any heat behind his words, since he knew there wasn't anything the guy could do about it at this point. 

However, he seemed to think it over, tapping his chin with the number of flowers he held in his hand. "That simply won't do, my good fellow. Uh, maybe I can recommend this place to some of our clients? Yeah — that'd be perfect!" His eyes lit up at the idea, and Will could tell it was something the guy wasn't gonna let go of now that he thought of it. ' _Mom going to flip shit on you over that new butterfly on your hip, Stacy? Go on over to The Flower Pot next door and get her some roses!_ '" 

Will couldn't help but laugh at that, his eyes shining with a genuine smile. Okay, yeah, this guy was funny. In a horrible, cringe-worthy way, but funny. 

"That's the worse thing I've ever heard. You're an idiot," Will laughed, turning away from him and mindlessly reorganizing some of the chrysanthemums.

"Richie, actually. Idiot would work too, if you're _that_ set on it, but," he chided, and Will could hear the grin in his voice. Will looked at him over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. The guy was smiling, crooked teeth showing, and reached his free hand out towards him. "Richie Tozier."

Will reached over and shook his hand, trying to keep his face neutral as their skin touched for the first time. He cleared his throat and backed away, walking over towards the register. "You gonna pay for that bouquet, Richie Tozier?"

The two made more small talk and banter as Will checked out Richie's flowers and gave him his total. As Richie dug through his wallet for some cash, he glanced over towards the door. "What time you usually close up?"

"Five minutes ago," Will said with a quiet chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. "It's fine, though." He surprisingly _didn't_ mind. 

That brought a laugh out of Richie, and Will watched as the man reached a tattooed hand up to scratch the back of his neck. "I was gonna go close up shop next door and hang out there for a bit. Start drawing some of these and stuff," he said, holding up the bouquet of flowers. "You should come, too."

"..And watch you draw flowers?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed Richie his change.

"Golly, William, don't make it sound so exciting," Richie chuckled, rolling his eyes. "So, um, is that a no?"

Typically, Will had a good head on his shoulders. He was a good student, had a great relationship with his mom and brother, never really got into any sort of trouble. Trouble that would usually start with a tattooed stranger inviting him to hang out after ten minutes of knowing him.

But despite Richie's exterior, the expression he was giving Will was so soft and hopeful, it would almost be cruel to deny him.

Hanging out with him for a little while wouldn't hurt, right?

 

* * *

 

 

Will didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

He found himself sitting in a chair in one of the rooms of the tattoo shop, one that was specifically Richie's working space. The place was filled with artwork and drawings, which Will assumed were done by Richie himself. 

Richie was currently hunched over a small desk in the corner of the room, the bouquet of flowers he'd bought earlier strewn out all over the top of the desk as he sketched. 

It was quiet in the room, and despite the lack of conversation, Will found himself mesmerized as he watched Richie work. His hand moved quickly, almost mindlessly as he would glance at the flower every now and again for reference. His coke-bottle glasses slid down his pierced nose, and his tongue would peek out between his lips every now and again.

Will could almost swear he saw a piercing there, too.

At some point he started to feel a little antsy and uncomfortable, his fingers tapping on the material of his khakis. His eyes flitted over to the piece of paper Richie was working on, and he found himself standing to get a better view.

The page was already almost filled with flowers, all matching perfectly to the real life version of themselves in the bouquet. Will was impressed.

"You're really good," Will said shyly, almost looking away when Richie glanced up at him. Almost.

"It's my job," Richie teased Will's words from earlier, setting his pencil down once he finished some shading.

Will chuckled, before biting his lip as the room went quiet again. "What made you get into tattoos?"

"Dunno," Richie shrugged. "Guess I liked the idea of getting whatever the fuck I wanted on my body forever, because it's my body, and no one could tell me not to. Started off as just a teen rebellion sort of thing, and then I started falling in love with the artistry of it all. Kinda made sense I'd make a career out of it."

Will nodded, not knowing what to say to that. Richie spoke up again. "You ever thought about getting one?"

He pondered the question for a moment, eventually shrugging as he sat on the edge of the chair again. "Maybe someday."

That got Richie's attention, and he turned around in his own chair to look at Will. He smirked softly, leaning so his elbows rested on his knees. "Someday, huh? What's so different from today to _someday_?"

"Money, for one," Will chuckled, looking down at his feet. "Besides, I don't even know what I'd get. Or where."

Richie blinked, and didn't miss a beat. "Let me give you one."

Will's eyes nearly flew out of his head. "You're — you're kidding, right?"

"Serious as a heartattack, William," Richie said, holding up a _scout's honor_ sign with his fingers.

"I told you I can't afford a tattoo right now."

Richie wasn't phased. "On the house. First tattoo and all — gotta make it special somehow."

Not even an hour beforehand, Will was mentally complaining about the tattoo shop. Now he was sitting in that very place, with a boy he had just met, who was now offering to give him a tattoo.

Life really did have a weird ass sense of humor.

He was going to say no. He was prepared to say no, to leave the shop, go home and work on that essay he'd been procrastinating and maybe group Skype his friends back in Indiana and—

"How badly does it hurt?" Will asked instead, surprising the both of them. Richie grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later, Richie was putting on gloves and turning to Will. He bit his lip. "You're uh — you're gonna need to take your shirt off for this one, darlin'," Richie said, fake country accent in full swing. It did little to calm Will's nerves. 

Shakily, Will nodded, reaching down to tug his shirt over his head. He tried not to feel insecure, sitting back down on the chair and avoiding Richie's eyes. He wasn't necessarily scrawny, but he wasn't that muscular, either. His body was average at the most, and now he was sitting shirtless in front of one of the most attractive guys he's seen in a long time.

He didn't get to see the intense way Richie was looking at him. 

He did hear Richie clear his throat, however, and move around to start getting everything ready.

"You're nervous," Richie observed, and Will looked up at him with a sigh and a nod. Richie nodded as well, moving to sit in a chair beside his, all of his supplies on a little table beside them.

He instructed Will to lie down, and as Will did so, he started wiping down the area he'd be tattooing. "The ribs are usually a really tender spot, even for people who've been tattooed a lot, so I'm not gonna lie and tell you it won't hurt. I won't be mad if you wanna back out," he said to Will, voice soft. It filled Will with butterflies, unrelated to the nerves of the tattoo itself.

"Just get it over with," Will mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard Richie let out a laugh and a mumble of " _that's the spirit_ ", and before he knew it, he was getting a tattoo.

It hurt like a _bitch_ , and felt like it lasted forever. He managed to keep himself under control, only letting out a few swears and whimpers every now and again. Each time, Richie would pause and make sure he was okay, before continuing. At one point Will's hand shot out to grab onto something to squeeze, literally anything, which ended up being Richie's thigh. Neither of them mentioned it; Richie too focused, Will too distracted.

And after what felt like a lifetime, it was done.

Will Byers officially had a tattoo.

He opened his eyes to see Richie grinning down at him, curls falling in his face. Will resisted the urge to reach up and push them out of his eyes. "I knew you'd be the perfect candidate to practice my dick drawing skills, William, but it turned out even better than planned," Richie said dramatically, reaching up to wipe a fake tear. Will groaned, covering his eyes as he chuckled.

"There better _not_ be a dick on my ribs right now, Richie, I swear to God."

Richie chuckled, taking his gloves off and tossing them to a trash can beside them. "Go look for yourself before I have to bandage it up."

Will nodded. On shaky legs he stood from the chair and walked over to the large mirror hanging on the wall, and there it was.

Just under the left side of ribcage, a small and simple, yet detailed sunflower.

He couldn't help but think it actually looked good on him. Suited him.

He turned to glance at Richie, finding the man looking at him with a soft smile. "It looks amazing," Will mumbled, looking back at the mirror. He ran his finger over it gently, the skin still sensitive.

Richie walked up behind him and set a hesitant hand on his waist. Will's skin was burning where his hand touched.

"So, since you now have my artwork inked on you forever, does this mean you'll let me take you on a date?"

Will's eyes widened as he looked at Richie in the mirror, finding the man looking at him with a hopeful grin. Will turned around to face him fully, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone you tattoo has your artwork on them forever. You take all of them out?" He asked, bringing a soft laugh out of Richie.

"Only the cute ones." 

They shared a laugh. The dark haired man seemed to be pondering something once their laughter died down, his head tilting as he met Will's eyes. "You really are sort of beautiful, you know that?"

Will was immediately blushing, unable to think of a response. Instead, Will gave Richie a tattoo of his own.

In pen, on the palm of his hand, of his phone number. 

They went on their first date a week later. And then another, and another.

Richie's most recent tattoo was a small sunflower, in a tiny open spot he had left, right below his ribcage.

 

* * *

 

 

The tattoo shop moving next door wasn't _that_ bad, afterall.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!!! kudos and comments mean the world
> 
> follow me on tumblr at willtoziers :)))


End file.
